


29 minutes and 48 seconds

by tyelkormofuckyou



Series: HP x The Silmarillion [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe, Baby Fëanor, Hogwarts House Sorting Ceremony, The Sorting Hat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-26
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:49:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24925678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tyelkormofuckyou/pseuds/tyelkormofuckyou
Summary: Little Fëanáro goes to school for the first time.
Series: HP x The Silmarillion [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813156
Comments: 10
Kudos: 41





	29 minutes and 48 seconds

Fëanáro looked out of the train window. He could see the reflection of his round face, but it was weak enough that he could easily admire the Scottish views when he pressed against the glass. The hills and moors stood dark against the starlit sky. Sometimes, over the passes, Fëanáro could notice the powerful constellation of Hercules, comfortably close and known.

He looked away from the hills and took the last chocolate frog out of his bag. He unpacked it and put the paper back in the bag. He bit its head off and looked at the card. Ossë, the famous explorer of underwater magical life and a well-known potions creator, stood smirking in a turquoise robe with a deep neckline. Fëanáro sighed. He already had two Ossës in his trunk.

He slipped the last paw of the frog into his mouth, looked back at the moors and sank into thoughts of the coming school year. Daddy told him a lot about Hogwarts, about the ghosts, the feasts, the mishaps of the teachers. Fëanáro _almost_ wanted to see it with his own eyes.

He was already dressed in school robes. His jet-black, thick ( _lovely_ , Finwë called them) curls rolled down his shoulders that were covered by the expensive fabric of the robe. The legs that he, of course, held together ( _you must not wave your legs and stretch out_ ), were clad in heeled, leather boots with uppers. Daddy made sure that Fëanáro had clothes of the best quality – comfortable, stylish and functional. The black trunk had an elegant silver inscription on it: C. F. NOLDÓRAN.

Fëanáro reopened _Hogwarts: A History_ , which lay on his lap, but he couldn't concentrate on reading. He looked nervously around the compartment - just as he had been doing almost all the way here. There was nobody in the next seat. Sometimes, prefects and other students ran down the corridor, but no one wanted to sit in front of Fëanáro – well, apart from this bunch of pure-blooded first-years, who, having seen Fëanáro's hair, shoes and trunk, wanted to add him to their racist pack. Fëanáro politely but firmly asked them to leave when they called someone from the previous compartment a filthy fat Telerin seal. _You must not talk about others like that._

Unexpectedly, the train slowed down and stopped. Excited voices and sounds of shuffling came to Fëanáro's ears, and finally a wave of students poured out into the corridor. Stressed prefects tried to control the crowd of their chatty colleagues, but most students – holding their toads and wands, straightening their robes and stroking their meowing cats – didn’t pay much attention to the prefects’ rebukes.

As soon as Fëanáro had left the compartment, he was immediately caught up in the flood of rushing students. When he finally stepped out onto the platform, his elegantly ironed robe was completely wrinkly. _Daddy would be worried._ How he’d been constantly rearranging Fëanáro’s robes while they were still on the platform 9 ¾…

_Dad. I won't see him until Yule._

“First-years! Sweeties!” A tall, surprisingly young woman with a broad smile and a few dreadlocks sticking out from under a shock of golden hair appeared on the platform. She was wearing a thick, brown sweater and a patchwork greenish skirt and she had a huge lantern in her hand.

"I'm the gamekeeper of Hogwarts, name’s Vána," she smiled at the small group of several first-year students who seemed to be already friends, each of whom had at least one book in his or her hand. “First-years! First-years here!”

Fëanáro obediently followed Vána, who led them to the very shore of the lake.

“We get on the boats, in fours!” she ordered. "What’s your name, lad?”

“Ecthelion!” the black-haired tall boy with the silver pipe in his hand answered in a spry voice.

“Come here, you’ll share the boat with…”

“Nerdanel!” A freckled girl with flaming red hair from the book club introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you, Nerdanel. Get in!”

Fëanáro slightly raised his robe and sat down on a bench next to a boy with dark hair and grey eyes.

“Hi!” The boy grinned and held out his hand to Fëanáro. “I'm Voronwë!”

"Fëanáro Curufinwë," Fëanáro introduced himself and shook the boy's hand.

“This is rad! I can’t wait. I wonder what House I'll be in. My mother was in Ravenclaw and my father was in Gryffindor. I think I'll be a Ravenclaw like my mom!” The boy seemed to be very excited.

"It’s possible," Fëanáro smiled politely.

“And you? What do you think will your House be? Where were your parents?”

"My mother was in Slytherin, but daddy says I will be in Ravenclaw just like him. But you never know, right?

"Right," said Voronwë and opened his mouth to say something, but he didn't make it. “Woooow!”

All the first-year fell silent, looking in silent admiration at the amazing view before their eyes. A gigantic torch-lit castle against the night sky caused a deep sigh from Fëanáro's chest. Although he was prepared for this view – he’d heard a lot about it from his father – he didn’t expect something that beautiful.

Vána smiled and picked up the lantern.

"Heads down, sweeties," she warned.

They swam under a vaulted arch until finally the waterfront appeared. The gamekeeper got out of the boat as soon as it reached the shore. All of the first-year students followed her.

"Hello," a woman's voice said. Fëanáro immediately noticed a tall witch standing at the top of the stairs, dressed in a dark blue, very stiff Victorian dress. She had a pointed hat on her head. Her deep eyes were shining with a mysterious light and Fëanáro thought that one could not pass by such a person indifferently. “My name is Varda Elentári and I teach Astronomy. The sorting ceremony will begin soon. When I read your name from the parchment, you will sit on the stool and I’ll put the Sorting Hat on your heads. It will sort you to one of the Houses.”

For a moment, Varda's eyes stopped at Fëanáro, but then she looked away at the other students.

“Follow me.”

The Great Hall made a great impression on all first-years. Candlelight dancing on the walls, the starlit sky above their heads, the four tables with the House pennants, the teachers’ table...

“Hello!” The teacher who had sat in the largest chair stood up. His clear voice immediately silenced everyone in the Hall. Fëanáro was a bit surprised when he noticed the elegant plume he wore instead of a hat. “My name is Manwë Súlimo and I would like to welcome all new students who will join us this year.”

He turned his sky blue eyes without pupils at the group of firt-years. One of the girls shuddered.

“I shall not make unnecessary admissions, because the Sorting Ceremony awaits us. Time for a song.”

To the amazement of the first years, the Sorting Hat – an old, worn out hat lying on the stool – actually began to sing. Fëanáro hadn’t even noticed it before.

“Be he foe or friend, be he foul or clean,

Elda or Maia or Aftercomer,

Man yet unborn upon Middle-earth,

Worry not, fot I shall sort you to your Hogwarts house,

Where you can find companions or even a spouse,

Are you a Gryffindor, so valiant and brave?

Are you a Hufflepuff, loyal to the grave?

Are you a Slytherin, ambitious and proud,

Or a wise Ravenclaw? Come here and find out!”

When the song died down, a few whispers came from the Hall.

“Varda?” Professor Manwë turned to the witch in the dark blue dress.

Professor Varda stepped on the platform and rolled the parchment out.

“Arafindiel, Írimë!”

A girl with cute golden curls ran up to the stool and pressed the Hat on her head. It didn't take long until ...

“Hufflepuff!” shouted the Hat. One of the tables burst into applause. Írimë ran to her new colleagues and sat on the bench.

“Ayacastion, Turcaner!”

A tall, slender boy with brown hair sat down on the stool. After a brief moment, the Hat screamed:

“Gryffindor!”

The ovations from the table against the wall were even louder than those from the Hufflepuff table. The boy joined the cheering Gryffindors with a smile.

The next Sortings took a little bit longer. There were more and more whispers and laughter around the Hall, when “Telpaireniel, Liltanis!” finally joined the Ravenclaw table, followed by Voronwë and the tall boy with a pipe whom Fëanáro had seen by the boats.

Fëanáro felt increasingly uncomfortable. The moment “Mahtaniel, Nerdanel!” – the ginger girl who was in the boat with that tall black-haired boy – was sorted to Ravenclaw, he felt like he was going to vomit.

“Noldóran, Curufinwë!”

Fëanáro heard none of the sudden whispers and did not notice Voronwë showing him a thumbs up from the Ravenclaw table. Somehow he couldn't move.

“Noldóran, Curufinwë!” repeated Professor Varda.

Fëanáro proudly raised his head up, walked up the steps to the platform, sat down on the stool ... and after a brief moment the Sorting Hat slipped over his head until it covered his eyes. He clenched his eyelids, preparing for its voice.

Nothing happened.

Is this how house sortings look like? You just sit there and wait for the hat to shout “Gryffindor!” or “Slytherin!”?

_Eru. End this._

The silence continued.

_Maybe I'm not a wizard at all? How? I can lift items with my magic since I was four ..._

"Of course you're a wizard," he heard an amused voice in his head. He jumped up. “The problem is that you are the greatest young mind I have ever had the pleasure to sort.”

Fëanáro was confused.

“How is that ...”

"Oh, Fëanáro Curufinwë," the Hat’s voice seemed amused. “Both your parents named you well.”

“Thanks?” Fëanáro smiled weakly.

“But the Sorting will take some time.”

Fëanáro held his breath.

"Don't worry," chuckled the Hat. "I just ... I have to think about it."

“Maybe Ravenclaw, just like my dad?” Fëanáro couldn’t stop himself from suggesting with some hope in his voice.

"Oh, how you love him," he heard a smile in the Hat’s voice. "You would do anything for him ... like a real, loving Hufflepuff ... you don't run away from work ... hmmmm ..."

The whispers in the hall became more and more intrusive.

“Silence!” Professor Varda’s stern voice made the noises fade away.

"When you set a goal, you don't give up ..." continued the Hat. "You are brave ... impetuous ... just look at this extreme honor... watch out for this honor, honey, enough is enough ..."

"Do you think Gryffindor suits me?" Fëanáro asked doubtfully. "I never thought about it ..."

"No, Gryffindor is not very likely," the Hat agreed. "Though you don’t lack courage and honor. Well, Ravenclaw, as you mentioned, comes out at first glance ... You are incredibly intelligent, creative, thirsty for knowledge. You’re a model Ravenclaw ... but ...”

“... but?”

"But you are also very ambitious and proud," whispered the Hat. “You would _kill_ for those you love. And you do not hesitate to use creativity for your own purposes.”

Fëanáro could not see from under the Hat that Professor Manwë called Professor Varda to his side and whispered something in her ear. The teachers exchanged worried looks.

“I shall speak with honesty to you, Fëanáro Curufinwë. I have no idea where to sort you.” said the Hat finally.

It fell silent again. Fëanáro held his stool so tightly that his knuckles were white. Now he could hear the voices of students become louder and louder. He closed his eyes. He felt a drop of sweat run down his forehead.

"Relax," whispered the Hat. "It's harder for me to think when your mind is galloping so chaotically."

Fëanáro made a grimace that was supposed to be a smile. What a shame! The whole school looks at him as if they were in a circus, and he’s sitting and sitting on this stupid stool, and the Hat thinks endlessly.

“Can you hurry a bit?” He asked shyly. “I feel a bit strange ... I don't think it's that difficult to find the dominant character trait in me.”

“You have the whole set of Ravenclaw features at its best, and you think like an absolute Slytherin. I don't know where to sort you.”

Fëanáro groaned in anger and resignation.

“How is it possible that you _don’t know_? I am _supposed_ to study at Hogwarts! You must sort me!”

"You want to be in Ravenclaw for Hufflepuff and Slytherin reasons. And that damn Gryffindor honor. Believe me, I've never met a mind as dexterous and eager to create as yours, but something tells me that you don't _belong_ in Ravenclaw.”

“Isn’t that your _job_? You've been sorting students for ages, and you don't know what to do with me?” growled Fëanáro, feeling that he was crossing the edge. "Maybe they should find another Hat, since this one can't deal with something it’s been practicing for so long. Forgive me if my mind is too complicated for you, I seem to be doing more than only sorting children. I will go to the headmaster and come up with something. I don't need your help to learn magic!”

"And that was what I needed," the Hat chuckled. “SLYTHERIN!”

Fëanáro did not feel Professor Varda taking the Hat off his head. He didn't hear the cheers of the crowd, he didn't see the whole Slytherin table stand up and applause louder than all students. He rose from his stool and dragged himself to the left, oblivious to the sight of Voronwë with his watch in his hand, leaning towards him and yelling: "Dude, 29 minutes and 48 seconds, school record!".

He slumped blankly on the bench and wiped his forehead with a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

The Sorting Ceremony came to an end very quickly. Despite the constant "Silence!" of Professor Varda, the Hall didn’t become any quieter. When it became clear that the students would’t stop talking, even Professor Manwë gave up his hope of giving a speech and simply ordered:

“A feast! Enjoy your new school year!”

Fëanáro ate a piece of roast and some apple pie, but somehow he didn't feel hungry. Several of his new housemates tried to talk to him, but they fell silent, noticing how Fëanáro clearly didn’t want to get to know them. His silver eyes roamed all over the Great Hall, the professors' table and the laughing faces of his colleagues. Who knows what the coming year will bring him?

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks go to Tsyl, who keeps correcting my English, and Bonoparty, who helped a lot with creating the HP/Silm verse! <33


End file.
